


Witch of Marmora

by Danganphobia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Altean Lance (Voltron), Angst, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Eventual Smut, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Prince Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, Witch Keith, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9613445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danganphobia/pseuds/Danganphobia
Summary: “Heh, to be honest, I expected witches to live in swamps like the old tales taught us, not for them to be hiding behind the coldness of the snow in the north.”In which Lance is sent by Allura through a brewing snowstorm to greet overseers. Little did the prince know during his journey he'd encounter an old friend along the way after his train abruptly crashed.In the midst of a blizzard Lance realizes he's stuck with none other than the witch of Marmora, and from then on his fate with the mysterious stranger awaits.





	1. Chapter 1

Blue eyes watched as the cargo was placed into the train, men straining to carry heavy loaded boxes, shouts being sent across the front of the Altean Castle, or better known, The castle of Lions. His lips formed into a scowl, hands gripping against his bayard. Why exactly did he have to go on this ridiculous journey? He was a _prince_ ; he shouldn’t be taking useless trips like these. These jobs of making sure everything went smoothly were for overseers, like Allura’s advisor, Coran or something.

Not only that, but Allura had mentioned that this trip would take place in the cold outskirts of the north.

_Great._

At least ice and the cold was his thing.

The Altean only sighed in displeasure, ocean eyes never leaving the scene. Well, at least he was doing something productive. At least he was going to freeze his butt off for a valid reason. Allura had stated that this mission was…important, for some odd reason? Go figure.

Lance’s eyes wandered over to the darkening skies, the blue fading into a vibrant, but deep red. The blue paladin’s eyes quickly retreated to the busy cargo scene. He couldn’t stare at the red too long…

It brought back things which only made his throat dry.

The prince then gave a sudden yelp as a heavy hand suddenly smacked itself against his rigid, tense shoulder, right hand tensely gripping his bayard. Sapphire eyes soon recognized the intruder, hand slowly moving away from the bayard.

“Hunk!” Lance’s voice was sharp, but with a twinge of playful banter. “You scared me half to death! Don’t do that.” The Altean prince’s mouth quickly formed into a smile, the guilty face of his best bud making him snicker. Honestly, he was too pure.

“Yeah, well, we’re about to leave, so, I was wondering if you wanted something to eat?” Hunk asked, his cheery voice echoing throughout the empty halls of the castle. Lance gave a moment’s thought before giving a curt nod, hearing Hunk’s retreating form.

He swiftly began to follow, stopping momentarily to glance back at the sunset which was forming over the horizon, the crimson now taming the azure sky.

And with that, he left, eyes focused on Hunk’s back the entire way.

                                    

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Mmm, Hunk, this is delicious!” Lance’s mouth was full to the brim, pieces of purple goo falling around the table in front of him. The small amount of Alteans in the dining room stared at the prince in disgust as he gave his praise over such horrid table manners. But to Hunk, it was the normal, hilarious, even. Lance would never learn, and frankly, neither he nor the princess cared much.

“Thanks, it’s a new recipe.” Hunk stated rather proudly, shoveling a spoonful himself into his mouth. Their food was merely garbage compared to the unique, fancy plates the other guests had, but frankly, neither of them cared. They were the paladins who protected the Alteans and the kingdom; the least they could do was ignore them.

Finally succeeding to swallow down the magenta like mush, Lance sent his gaze toward his friend, the yellow paladin already scraping his plate clean of small remains. His fingers tapped against the table.

“So, what are they transporting, anyway?” Lance asked rather quiet, fingers still tapping against the table’s surface. His paladin suit felt heavy, with the extra royal garments added over it to represent his royal status.

A blue cloth with a golden yellow trim was placed over his chest, covering half of it, not only that but it stretched up to half of his throat, a shirt collar,  a cut forming a V at the middle of his throat, stopping right where his neck met his shoulders. It formed a V point at the middle of his chest, instead of being just a round cloth.

A similar cloth adorned his waist, right below his paladin belt. The V cut was right at the middle of his midsection, the blue cloth with the golden yellow trim covering the remainder of his waist, stopping at the very top of his legs.

A golden band stretched across his temple, like Allura’s, a light blue upside down triangle was at the middle of the band, the golden rim at the top of the triangle was not present, the golden rim underneath it was the only thing enveloping the triangle in gold. It really did highlight his beautiful brunette hair.

White, circle earrings adorned his pointed ears while a light blue marking, much like Allura’s own, was present underneath each of his eyes.

He had gone several times without wearing the extra royal attire, feeling strange, but Allura only pestered him with wearing the royal wear. She even suggested dying his hair white, in which Lance quickly denied. _No one_ was touching his precious hair.

“Oh, just some of those spores we encountered with those tree people last time.” Hunk responded rather quickly. “The village nearby wanted some in stock just in case something happened. And we have a lot of extras. They’ve been saying that a weird, creepy _thing_ was roaming around their place so, better safe than sorry, huh?”

_Better safe than sorry._

“Yeah, I guess…” Lance then became extremely silent, sapphire eyes staring at his magenta goo. He didn’t feel hungry anymore. His fingers also instantly stopped their tapping, azure eyes becoming distant and slightly losing their spark. The magenta color of the food brought back memories. Everything did. The sky, red like blood when the sun set, the goo, purple like…like…-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Hunk’s sudden voice broke Lance from his thoughts. The prince only shook his head.

“No I…I tried so hard, Hunk.” Lance spoke, barely above a whisper. “I tried…but I-I couldn’t-” Lance’s teeth then grit, sapphire eyes starting to sting. “I didn’t…I’m…forget it, Hunk. I’ll meet you outside when the train’s ready to leave. ”

The Altean prince stayed seated a few moments longer, deadly silent, before excusing himself, but to his knowing, he already knew the other guests were pleased with his sudden leave. And frankly, he could care less. Let them gloat.

                                    

 

* * *

 

  


“So, what you’re saying is that you’re sending Lance, _Lance,_ off onto this train ride, _without Blue_ , to see how he handles and reacts to the whole journey, with Hunk?” The young girl asked, fingers moving toward her glasses to readjust them. “You know this may have _terrible_ outcomes, right?”

“Oh Pidge, you’re too cautious, loosen up a bit!” Allura stated ruffling the green paladin’s short light brown hair. “It’s not like he’s going to blow up the train-“

“He’s _capable_ of it…” Pidge muttered rather knowingly.

Allura gave a small glare toward the rather snarky tech. “But I only want to know how he _handles it_ , anyway, all of our overseers are scouting the borders, and Lance is the only one capable of doing this particular task. And the people receiving the cargo need someone to greet them. I can’t just send them a train-full of laborers with no one of high social status.”

“Capable?! Allura, just the other day he ruined your social status when he played that crude prank! Remember that, how he threw glitter at all of your guests and as if that wasn’t enough, insulted them while doing it?” Pidge’s fingers tightened against her palms, uncertainty flashing against her narrowed brown eyes. “’ _Oh, that color suits you, it covers up that ugly mask you call a face_!’” Pidge’s face made a ridiculous imitation of Lance’s signature smirk.

Allura only covered her face with her right hand, head shaking disapprovingly. “Yes, I remember that scene _vividly,_ but he is now a prince, he can’t just dawdle around and waste his time anymore. One day, I’m going to be called off to somewhere away from the castle, and he is going to be the one in charge. I just want to know if he is capable of it. And he has to know that he won’t always be able to travel around and depend on the blue lion.”

“And you’re doing this by sending him on a magical train ride into winter wonderland.” Pidge stated, a deadpanned expression on her face.

“Pidge _listen_ , we need someone to go greet our clients, and there is no one else up to it. Shiro is out on the border patrol, you’re here making sure that everything in the castle and kingdom runs smoothly, and Hunk is going with Lance to keep him under control. Whether you and I like it or not, Lance has to _go_.” Allura stood in front of the computer specialist, blue, pink tinted eyes staring pointedly at unsure eyes.

Pidge only sighed, a soft thump sounding as she fell into a chair behind her, the computer buzzing behind her. “I don’t know…I have a bad feeling about this…” Pidge muttered rather dejectedly, brown eyes staring onto Allura’s face.

“Don’t worry Pidge, Lance has gone through so much, a simple train ride won’t hurt him. We’ll be monitoring him anyway, just in case.”

At this, Pidge’s body shot upright. “How? Wait…you set cameras into the train, didn’t you?” Pidge questioned, a knowing tone edging into her question.

Allura only smiled even more.

And at that, Pidge only shook her head.

_‘Oh God.’_

                                  

 

* * *

 

 

Lance stared at his reflection, his mirror reflecting the glare of the setting sun. His hair shone as water dripped from it, a comb going through straying strands. His room felt rather murky, as if it had become dull and lifeless, the vibrant feel from before slowly fading as the day of the tragedy grew farther away.

Lance had asked for a window, spending countless vargas staring out of it.

 _Six months._ Six months ago his room was vibrant. Six months ago his eyes, which were now rather a dull blue, shone a sapphire blue, seeming as if the ocean shone in his irises. Six months ago, the team was complete.

_Six months ago…_

_He was still here._

There was a sudden sound of a solid object hitting harshly against the floor. The comb in his hand now gone as it lay across his dorm, fists clenching against his sides.

“Damn it, keep it together Lance, you have a train to catch.” The Altean prince muttered solemnly, now walking over towards the brush which he had angrily discarded a few moments ago. Hands trembling, he picked up the blue brush, placing it onto the counter of his bathroom.

Gathering his bayard, hair now dry, he stepped out of his room, the door silently sliding closed behind him. The halls were empty as he walked through them, blue eyes focused on the ground, until they glanced at a dorm room farther down.

Lance’s steps grew faster, until they reached their destination. The dorm door in front of him seemed eerie, the silence behind it haunting Lance as his right hand tentatively reached out toward it, eyes uncertain as his hand seemed just about to reach the metal, until it suddenly slid open. Lance took a double take, stumbling back in slight shock.

The darkness inside the room was astonishing, the dust swirling around the bottom of the door as they settled down. Lance gave slow, steady steps toward the room, feet settling into the room. The bed on the right had a layer of dust; the dark blue sheets were still messy on the mattress. The room seemed miserable, as if it knew what had happened and it shared the pain. Lance stood there for a few ticks, eyes scanning the deserted room rather solemnly. His eyes caught sight of something red poking out under the mattress.

He slowly moved toward it, hands slowly enclosing around the top of the mattress. His eyes widened to see a red jacket, yellow lines piercing the red at the middle of the jacket.

The turtle neck was white. Black, fingerless gloves were underneath, a rectangle hole in the middle of them. A black shirt lay under them. A belt was positioned a few inches away, its two small brown bags at the sides seeming heavy.

“No…no way.” Lance stuttered. His hands ran tentatively over the jacket, its soft plush feel leaving the pads of his fingers tingling. His tan, sun kissed hands reached over toward the belt, making a jangling noise as he lifted it. It seemed like only one of the bags was being used. Lance’s hand reached into it, pulling out a small, rectangular locket. His thumb brushed over the cool metal, swiping it open in the process due to the pressure.

And at that, Lance choked out; voice becoming lost as familiar grey eyes stared back at him.

The photo seemed to have been taken long ago, maybe about five or four months. They were in the training deck. Lance’s right arm was placed around the former red paladin’s shoulders, blue eyes vibrant and filled with amusement. Keith had his arms crossed over his chest, as it was his usual pose. But his usual facial features were missing. Rather than a scowl on his face, Keith had a faint, but highly noticeable fond smile on his lips.

His grey eyes, usually filled with anger, scorn, boredom, deep thought or annoyance, were rather filled with content. His eyebrows were also slightly lowered, facial expression as if fondly admiring something.

_And that something was Lance._

                          

 

* * *

 

 

 

The docking port was clear of movement, the noise now being inside of the train. The sun’s light was beginning to fade, the stars now becoming evident as the red tint cleared to make way for cobalt blue. The silver train seemed to glow under the light of the moon, it’s slender, long shape glowing white.

“Where is he? The train’s about to depart in a few ticks!” Allura asked, face serious. Hunk only shrugged, leaning against one of the train cars.

“I don’t know, he’s probably freshening himself up, you know how vain he is about his appearance.”” Hunk suggested, eyes studying the bayard in hand. “He’ll be here in a moment, hopefully.”

“Yeah, in a _moment.”_ A new voice stated cockily, a white backpack with two blue crisscrossing stripe sin the middle hanging from his shoulder. He had his royal blue cape behind him, the dark azure color only highlighting his paladin armor. “I was just getting a few things before we go, y’know, to keep myself occupied.”

Allura merely rolled her eyes. “Lance, you will be _occupied_ with making sure everything goes smoothly.”

Lance only smirked at this. “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll make sure this goes as smoothly as my awesome skills.” He stated, hands pointing at the annoyed princess.

“It better…” Pidge muttered next to the princess, which made Lance quickly send a glare at the tech.

“Don’t try me, _Pidgeon.”_ Lance countered, lips moving to a smirk when Pidge’s eyes only narrowed. Lance then moved toward the train, stopping in front of the passenger car right in front of the car which held the precious cargo.

“Don’t miss me too much, girls, I know how devastated you will be due to my absence.”

A sudden yelp was heard as Pidge’s hand smacked the back of Lance’s head. Hunk let out a laugh, while Allura smirked in amusement.

“Hunk! You traitor, how is this _funny_?!” Lance shouted out in dismay, hand rubbing at his abused head. Hunk only responded by shoving his friend in the car, hand waving toward the awaiting girls before the door once again slid shut.

“I still think this was a bad idea.” Pidge stated as the train started to move, its slender shape cutting through the invisible air. Through the window, Lance’s face was twisted between a glare and flustered expression, angrily staring at Hunk while the other was merely chuckling in unhidden amusement.

Soon, the only thing the two girls could see was the slowly fading silhouette of the train, slowly becoming enveloped in darkness.

                          

 

* * *

 

  


“This is incredibly boring.” Lance stated, blue eyes focused on the fast moving scenery in front of him. It had been several vargas since their departure, the train now cold as the snow from the outside covered the blue tinted windows in unforgiving frozen frost. His left hand held up his face, eyes half lidded, elbow resting on the seats’ arm. Hunk only silently agreed, mouth chewing one of the various snacks he had brought.

“Oh come on Lance, it’s not that bad.” Hunk stated, hands in a bag filled with his own delicious snacks he’d made himself. Lance only glanced toward his best friend, eyes dull.

“Says the guy who hasn’t stopped eating since we left the castle.” Lance stated, and at that, the yellow paladin hid his stash. Lance groaned, his legs stretching forward. The special car was filled with booths which were specially made for the paladins. The black booth was placed next to the green, while the red was placed next to the blue. The yellow booth was placed in the back, giving Hunk space to do whatever he liked.

“Why aren’t you sitting in your own booth?” Hunk questioned, eyebrow raised. Lance tensed, shoulders going rigid and body now set straight. The blue paladin stayed silent for several ticks, blue eyes staring at the blue booth a few feet away, on the other side, next to him.

“Too lazy to move.” Lance finally responded, the answer curt and short. Hunk only stared at his friend, brown eyes glancing down to the white and blue backpack seated next to the blue paladin. Lance’s right hand was placed over it, as if in a protective grip.

“What’s in the bag? It better not be hair products or facial cream, Lance, we’re only going to be gone for about two days.” Hunk stated, gathering no movement from Lance.

“Stuff.” Lance responded. “It’s nothing really, just, snacks and the like. I get hungry too, y’know.” Lance’s grimace turned into a smile, eyes now staring back at the yellow paladin. Hunk nodded, accepting the response but feeling as if it were only partially true. The bag seemed too full to only be carrying measly snacks. But he decided not to think more of it. Well, he tried not to.

Hunk got up, slowly walking down the aisle, acting as if he were going to the bathroom. Lance gave a shout of surprise, eyes snapping from the window toward the yellow paladin. His hand grasped the bag too late, the precious items inside now in Hunk’s hold.

“Hunk!” Lance shouted out, hands attempting to take back what was his. But he was quickly stopped by Hunk’s hand holding him back, his arms flailing aimlessly. Hunk’s hand zipped open the bag, only to reveal a red jacket, and other familiar things inside. Both paladins stayed silent, Lance’s eyes glancing down at the cold, metallic floor.

“Lance, how’d you find his stuff?” Hunk asked, eyes still staring into the bag. Lance stayed quiet, blue eyes staring at the floor for a few more prolonged ticks before glancing up to his friend.

“Under his mattress.” Lance muttered, hand quickly shooting forward and grasping the stolen bag. He quickly zipped up the thing and, this time, placed it to his left, where it would be cornered toward the wall and shielded by his body.

“You went into his room?!” Hunk stated, shocked. None of the paladins had stepped foot into the red paladins’ room after the incident, not wanting to stir up emotions. Lance especially avoided it most, usually taking the long way route just to avoid the door.

“No, I just found these _floating in the air_!” Lance stated sarcastically, right leg now crossed over his left. Hunk rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“You still hope he’s coming back, don’t you? You miss the rivalry and bickering every day, right?” Hunk stated quietly. The Altean prince stayed silent, eyes darting back toward the window, the snow tipped mountains filling his sight.

“I-“ Lance began, when a sudden sharp jolt made him grip the seat’s arm, his teeth gritting at the sudden force of unexpected gravity. Hunk was thrown back, a loud bang being heard as he collided with the back of the train car.

Lance was about to go help his best friend, when another jolt shook his form. His hands gripped the green booth in front of him, eyes quickly darting toward the window, only to widen as he saw the train falling into the depths below. The trains’ slender form gleamed as it derailed off the mountains’ tracks, its cars now scraping against sharp, jagged rocks beside the mountain.

Lance quickly covered his face, arm shielding his face as the glass beside him cracked, sending sharp shards sprawling everywhere. A shard managed to scratch his left cheek, the blue paladin biting his lip in pain. He felt his world spinning as the cars spun against gravity, his body now slamming towards the blue booth. His hand quickly gripped the arm of his chair, hands tightening against it. His arms strained to hold on, the sudden sharp jolts of the cars making his grip weaker and weaker.

“Hunk, what is _happening_?!” Lance yelled out, blue eyes glancing back at the yellow paladin who had tightened his grip onto a jutting bar, fear evident in his gaze.

There was then another sudden jolt, which made the blue paladin lose his grip.

Lance felt his fingers slip, his hands once again attempting to grasp the chair’s arm to no avail. He could feel the force of gravity hit against his body, eyes catching a glimpse of the broken window beneath him.

His eyes shone with the likes of fear and disbelief, head quickly snapping over to his right to take a glimpse of his friend before feeling the sharp jagged ends of glass cut through his sides.

Hunk’s yell echoed throughout the train as Lance then fell, falling through the broken window, blue armor fading into the falling snow below.

                          

* * *

 

 

Snow was falling rapidly, the cold mist whisking around an unmoving figure standing out in the whiteness of the snow. Lance groaned, blue eyes slowly opening to welcome a blanket of white. It was very thick snow; the ground below had to be at least ten feet away. His hands attempted to the grip the snow, finger marks straying behind.

There were several pine trees around him, their short, sharp leaves providing little protection from the falling snow. The wind raged against his freezing form, the wolves being able to be heard from miles away, their haunting songs making Lance shiver in disdain.

“Ugh.” Lance grit his teeth as a sudden pain flared at his side when he attempted to get up. His body was full of bruises, it felt stiff and his joints ached when they made the slightest movement. His left hand reached down, only to come back as a shade of crimson. This was bad.

“Great, stranded in the middle of nowhere, alone, in the dark and cold, with a deadly wound. Thanks Allura!” Lance shouted out in frustration, eyes glancing around attempting to spot the train. His eyes darted to a ledge not far from him. Groans of pain echoed throughout the air as Lance feebly dragged himself over, crimson blood coating the sheets of snow, head peering out from the ledge. His eyes narrowed, straining to see through the dark, and then widened at the sight.

The train was a total wreck, its cars indistinguishable, its mangled mess glowing, shining with the light of the moon above. He could bet all his money that the cargo certainly did not survive the massive fall to oblivion.

“Hunk! You okay, buddy?!” Lance’s voice strained, hoarse from pain. There was no response. _‘Oh no, no, no ,no ,no…’_

He couldn’t go down there, not in his current state of condition. He could barely move. The pain was agonizing. He moved himself away from the ledge, not wanting to fall over to his impending doom. He sat himself up on his knees, hand once again darting toward his side, hand freezing in place when he felt something hard and sharp. His hand felt around, recognizing the shard of glass. His sulking form became incredibly stiff.

“Damn it.” Lance breathed, hand not moving from the foreign object that was now lodged in his side. He couldn’t get it out, unless he wanted to bleed to death, but if he didn’t it would lead to infection. He was already experiencing a heavy loss of blood already. He could feel his eyes blurring in and out of sight, focus fading away. His senses were almost non-existent; the pain was the only thing keeping him awake in the frigid cold. The snow was picking up now, until all he could see where blurs of white as a blizzard began to rage on.

Lance gave a small yelp as he attempted to stand, muscles straining against the sudden unbearable weight. He couldn’t stay here, out in the mere open, it wasn’t safe, he would either die from freezing to death or getting attacked by something. He dropped to the ground, hands managing to catch his falling form just in time. He breathed heavily, the pain too intense. His form shook, eyes staring at the white below him.

“Come on Lance, you’ve gone through worse.” Lance’s voice strained as he attempted it once again, a whimper sounding from the back of his throat as his weight was challenged once again. He felt pathetic.

His legs managed to become steady; Lance’s left hand resting above his wound to attempt to stop the bleeding. His azure eyes attempted to scan the scenery around him, but only managed to catch glimpses of green, before the blizzard blocked it out again and again.

Drops of crimson fell onto the snow below him, a trail of blood being left behind him as he carried on. His legs strained against the thick blankets of snow, teeth grit in an attempt to fight the frigid cold. His steps were slow, but steady, going on for seven minutes before his body felt like it was too much.

His legs buckled beneath him, landing face first into the blanket of snow underneath. The pain and cold became too much for his abused body to handle. In a few seconds, he could feel the snow build up on his body, sending a strange calmness to his mind and body. He could feel a warm, sticky feeling pooling itself around his left side, the crimson color tainting his paladin armor.

' _Maybe I should stay here and rest a bit…,’_ Lance’s mind began to become drowsy, he knew this was bad, but he just felt so tired, he couldn’t go on, _‘I’ll just close my eyes for a few seconds and…’_

His blue eyes began to close, straining to stay open, eyesight slowly fading, but not before seeing a strange, dark figure moving toward him. Its movements were paused, as if surveying the scene before them. It’s glowing, purple eyes seemed to stare straight through him, blue eyes seemingly glazed over as they drearily stared back, mouth set in a grimace.

Two glowing purple diagonal lines were placed a bit lower beneath the two eyes. The third eye placed in the middle of its masks’ forehead seemed to be flickering in thought. A few ticks passed before it, yet again, began moving forward, its incredibly slow steps agonizing.

The creature moved strangely, as if it were cautious toward Lance’s injured form. Its black cloak rippled against the blizzard, the white passing fleck of snow instantly melting against robe upon impact. The crow skull placed on the middle of the chest of the robe, where the opening of the hood met with the top of the chest, closing it off, contrasted against the darkness of the robe.

It was just there, hanging on it, like a prize won at some point in time. The hood of the robe was placed on top of the thing’s head, making the glowing, lavender colored eyes even more vibrant and menacing.

It seemed to trudge through the snow like it was nothing.

Toward him, it slowly made its way.

The thing then hesitated once again, as if contemplating its decision.

It was merely three feet away. Lance could only groan in frustration and pain.

The blue paladin was too exhausted to fight or even give a rapid warning to the mysterious figure.

He only managed to catch a glimpse of three glowing, purple eyes on the mask, staring right at him, before blacking out into the impending darkness, leaving himself vulnerable to his possible demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoyed!
> 
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	2. The Broken Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You broke the deal. You have no pay which is enough to recompense what you did.” It spoke in a chillingly calm tone, its slightly distorted voice ringing in Lance’s ears as he listened. “Now you only are left with two choices.”

**_“That is the saddest part when you lose someone you love — that person keeps changing. And later you wonder.. is this the same person I lost?”_ **

_—[Amy Tan](http://thelovejournals.tumblr.com/), The Kitchen God’s Wife _

 

                                                                                 

**_Witch of Marmora: Chapter 2_**

_The ‘broken’ deal_

                                                                                 

* * *

 

**_T_ ** _he blue and red roses were vibrant in color, soft and delicate petals dancing in the breeze. Lance sighed in content, his body resting amid a plain of soft, fresh grass. The sky shone of blue, red and pink tints here and there while the fluffy, puffs of clouds were slowly moving across the soft sky. The air was warm, leaving a slightly humid feel to the Cuban’s skin. His dark blue eyes were half-lidded, admiring the scenery around and above him in light amusement._

_It was quiet._

_“It’s nice, isn’t it?”_

_Lance’s body didn’t move. A mere glance towards the source of the voice was the only acknowledgement given. The second being present only chuckled in pure unhidden amusement._

_“Such a sad thing that things perish, once there to leave a legacy, to only then disappear and be forgotten in the outskirts of time.”_

_The blue paladin continued to ignore the newcomer, his blue eyes staring at the red rose which he had previously plucked._

_“If only things lasted forever, such as memories, don’t you agree, Lance?”_

_Lance only grit his teeth. “Shut up.”_

_“I asked you a question.” The voice implied calmly, the calm tone to its simple question aggravating Lance even further. He slowly stood up, body too tense to lie down any further. His legs felt the soft caresses of the grass, back now facing the other who was ignoring Lance’s evident discomfort._

_The rose in Lance’s hand began to slowly deteriorate, its once vibrant colors fading into a dull shade of crimson, petals falling toward the ground below. The field of roses seemed to follow, long stalks of thistles and weeds consuming the stalks of the innocent flowers._

_“I said, shut up.” Lance responded back, hand now shaking in anger. He could feel blood flowing down his hand as he gripped the rose in hand, thorns embedding themselves into his skin._

_“I know you agree, Lance.”_

_“I said, shut up!” Lance’s scream echoed across the field, the sky now becoming dark with patches of dark crimson. His hand was now heavily bleeding, a small stream of blood flowing against his abused palm, warm drips of his life supply falling onto the lush grass below. His blue eyes snapped toward the intruder, filled to the brim with fury. The other only smirked smugly, his grey and lavender eyes filled with dark amusement. His red paladin suit gleamed with the rays of the sun, aggressive yet soft._

_“It wasn’t my fault, I swear!” Lance yelled back in fury, form now shaking as he stared back. He let the dead flower in his hand fall, the blue paladin falling suit as he fell to his knees in bewilderment._

_“It wasn’t my fault.” Lance repeated, cobalt eyes catching glimpses of the dead field of flowers, thistle and weeds now becoming the main attraction to the once lively field._

_“I never said it was.” The figure stated back calmly, eyes studying the blue paladin closely._

_“You’re not even real.” The upset paladin responded, eyes slowly meeting that of the red, who was now scowling in discomfort._

_“I may not be, I’m merely a figment of your conscious possibly. But, I am what I would be if I were here. You knew me so well that you are capable of knowing what my actions would be in a situation involving myself.”_

_Lance stayed silent, bloodied hand now clenched in frustration._

_“You’re not the real Keith.” Lance spoke, voice seeming dead and without life. Keith merely raised an eyebrow._

_“Yes I am. You’re Lance, and I’m me. This is merely a dream, yet here I am. So what if I am your conscious? I’m still here. Dreams are dreams; they are a possibility of what could be-”_

_Lance flinched when he felt warmth envelope his injured hand, foreign fingers gripping the self-inflicted wound. Lance turned his head, blue eyes meeting with grey. Lance narrowed his eyes, spotting the lavender which most weren’t able to see upon first impression._

_“Or what could have been.”_

_The blue paladin turned around, his unoccupied hand gripping his bayard as it quickly materialized, sensing his adrenaline. Keith, noticing the action, only glanced down for a few seconds, before gripping the summoned bayard. His hand gripped the weapon tightly as he lowered it slowly, grey eyes staring back in fondness. The red paladin rubbed at Lance’s injured hand, his own skin becoming tainted with crimson._

_“Things don’t stay the same forever, but perhaps, there may be change for the good. Perhaps things although changed, still stay the same if given the chance.” Keith’s hand then let go of the other’s, body crouching low as he dragged Lance down with him with his other occupied hand. Lance obliged, knees meeting the ground below, intrigued by the other’s words and actions._

_Keith gently placed Lance’s injured hand onto the dead bed of roses beneath them, the blue paladin’s eyes widening in surprise as they instantly came back to life at his simple touch, their once dry, blackened petals now rejuvenated into soft, blue petals full of life. They brushed against his injured palm, a faded blue, soft glow enveloping his palm for mere seconds before dissipating once again. The blue paladin only stared in awe as he inspected his hand, finding it almost healed completely. There were still a few scratches, still bleeding and letting little streams of blood run down his hand._

_“Sometimes the new can heal the hurt which was caused of the old.”_

_Lance watched as Keith lowered his own hand toward the ground, a vibrant bed of crimson roses spreading among the blue. They danced and brushed against each other, as if celebrating their revival and re-encounter. A red rose brushed itself against Lance’s still injured hand, a faded crimson glow enveloping his hand, before disappearing like the blue from before. Lance slowly lifted his hand, inspecting it once again to find it fully healed, no scars left in the wounds’ trace._

_“And it can spread, to create something even more vibrant.”_

_Lance’s eyes glanced up, head turning back to catch the faded purple glow which was spreading throughout the field. The once dead roses were now full of life, even more vibrant and beautiful then before. The thistles and weeds dried up, dropping dead as the roses took their place once again. Lance turned his head toward the red paladin, the grey eyes staring back in a content manner as a warm sunset gleamed behind him._

_“When will I see you again?” Lance whispered, words straining with hurt. He felt his throat become heavy, barely being able to swallow, hands gripping the grass beneath him in an effort to contain himself._

_Keith only smiled, sadness evident in his eyes._

_“Wake up.”_

                                                                              

* * *

 

Lance’s eyes snapped open, but instantly closing once again as he received an instant headache at the sudden action. Pain flared at his side as he attempted to breathe, arms and legs stiff as he tried to move. He instantly moved his hand toward his side, the sudden white-hot sensation causing him to yell out in pain. He groaned in agony, hand rising up to his temple in an effort to calm the sudden tremor. His eyelids felt groggy, slowly blinking as they attempted to fully open for at least a few seconds.

He could feel heat close to his body, crackles of something being heard as he writhed in pain. His blue irises finally became visible, blurry eyes taking in their situation. He turned his head toward his right, eyes narrowing as they caught sight of a campfire. A window was not far from the fire. His eyes slowly scanned the room, catching every detail.

It was night.

The peach walls seemed cracked, a bunch of papers with strange symbols were hung all over them around the small shack. A long billboard was placed above the fireplace, papers with strange symbols and inscriptions were pinned to its surface. Colored strings seemed to connect them together. He raised his head slightly; a shelf with strange books was apparently on the wall in front of him.

Lance then slowly moved his head toward his left, catching sight of two windows which were positioned behind the old sofa in which he was currently lying on. Boxes seemed to be scattered here and there along with old VCRS and electronics. Some of them were on a tall, narrow shelf. Tied up stacks of papers were also present.

_‘Ah, that’s where the heat is coming from.’_ Lance’s mind recited in realization, ignoring all that he just saw, only to then explode once again in pain. His head fell back against the soft cushions as Lance grit his teeth, mind feeling groggy and delirious as he shook his head. He stayed quiet for a few moments, before his eyes snapped open in sudden panic, groggy mind becoming fully conscious.

_‘Wait…fireplace…small, one room house with barely any space…this isn’t the castle…’_  The prince attempted to get up, only to fail as he once again yelled in pain, eyes seeing stars for a few seconds before once again regaining focus.

“Where _am_ I?” Lance muttered, hands brushing against his bare legs…wait, _bare_?! The blue paladin glanced down at himself, bare chest visible as he stared down at his body. Bruises covered his legs, white bandages covered most of his torso; a large crimson stain could be seen at his injured side. He grimaced as he realized the only thing he was currently wearing were his blue boxers.

Wait…how did…injured side… _injured side_!

Lance did a double-take as the memories from the events from before resurfaced, the mission, the sudden turn of events…the painful memory of his best friend’s worried and fearful face printing itself onto his brain. His hand slowly rose toward his face as he rubbed his dreary eyes, hand trailing along his jaw in deep, worrisome thought.

“I hope he’s okay…nah, he’s probably at some kind of food joint by now… _is he_? What of the train? Wait _my bag_!” Lance spoke to himself, eyes flaring in sudden panic. The bag, it’s _gone_.

His head snapped toward the door as heard a sudden bang, a cold draft becoming evident as it slowly opened. The Altean prince instantly shut his eyes, easily feigning sleep as he heard slow, but agile footsteps come closer. His heart pounded as he felt the others presence close to him, eye straining to stay closed as fear and uncertainty overtook him.

_‘Stay calm, Lance, don’t move.’_ The blue paladin’s mind repeated quickly as a foreign hand suddenly touched his injured side. Lance bit back a hiss of pain, the others’ hand slowly moving along his covered wound. There was a sudden pause, Lance becoming frustrated, until he felt fingers unwrap the bandages from his still not healed wound.

It still bled.

_‘What are they doing? Who are they? Why are they helping me? Should I trust them?’_ Lance’s mind was quickly filling up with unanswered questions as he felt warm fingers suddenly make impact with his own burning skin. The fingers traced his gaping wound tenderly, as if it were something of upmost value. A few moments passed before the fingers retracted, warmth disappearing from Lance’s side, making the prince weary. He felt a moist cloth be pressed up against his wound, once again suppressing a hiss as the pain became unbearable.

Lance’s ears caught the sound of something in a liquid substance, only to then feel a writing utensil brush against his skin, on his right arm. Lance waited a few moments, finally managing to realize that this person was writing on his skin.

_‘Are…are they writing on my skin without my permission?!’_ Lance’s mind roared in fury, eyes snapping open as he scowled at the other. They seemed to be wearing a robe which concealed their face. His cobalt eyes studied the other, eyes glancing down toward his right bicep, in which a strange symbol was being tattooed onto his once pure skin. The prince watched as it was slowly completed, sending out a loud yelp as a sharp, painful sting stung him, the symbol suddenly glowing a light purple as it was activated onto his skin. It felt as if his flesh were melting off the bone.

The other only looked up in surprise, quickly slipping on a black glove to his uncovered hand, Lance being able to catch a glimpse of fair skin before it was covered.

“ _Ow_! What do you think you’re doing?!” Lance yelled out, unable to conceal his anger any longer. The other in the room only stared back; it’s glowing, lavender eyes staring back. Lance stared back, eyes narrowed in thought and pondering, only to widen in sudden realization.

“ _You_! You’re that _thing_ that I saw before passing out in the snow!” Lance yelled back, expecting an answer in return. A few moments passed, and to his dismay, the other being in the room stayed silent. “Listen, I know I’m good looking, but that doesn’t excuse you for stripping me down to my boxers.”

Nothing.

“Can’t you speak? _Answer me_ , and if you need motivation to speak, I’ll _gladly_ threaten you.” Lance snarled out, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was usually extremely friendly but…

This thing made him feel extremely off.

Still silence.

“Answer me, _please_! I’m miles upon miles away from my family and team, out in the cold and stuck with a stranger who doesn’t want to speak! At least _answer me_!” The prince seethed, cobalt eyes narrowed at the other in distrust. The other only tilted its head slightly, as if acknowledging the prince’s words. Its hands reached for something on the floor, a blue blanket becoming visible as the thing placed it upon Lance, uncaring of the blue paladin’s disdain. It then turned around, walking towards a box to put away the utensils used.

“Hey! Don’t you _dare_ ignore me! I’m the prince of _Altea_ and I won’t hesitate to fight yo- _Agh_!” Lance howled in pain, body writhing uncontrollably as he bit his lip, blood oozing from the abused flesh as his canines dug into it. Lance heard rustling, only to then feel his left arm be restrained as the thing wrote something onto his bicep.

“Hey! Stop tattooing things onto my ski- _agh, agh_!” Lance could barely speak as a sudden sting overcame his entire body, leaving him breathless in sudden agony, only to then leave in a second. His eyes were shut tightly, awaiting pain, only to feel nothing.

“What did you _do_?” Lance questioned, skeptic. The thing only tilted its head toward his bicep, as if expectant of Lance’s reaction. Lance quickly snapped his eyes toward his bicep, only to be met with a strange symbol painted in black. His eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing to me and my body? What are these, exactly, and why do they work?” Lance asked, not waiting for an answer as he attempted to get up.

No pain. No blood. No scar.

Nothing was left in the previous wound’s trace. Lance gingerly ran his fingers along the skin on his side, a flare of uncertainty filling his veins.

His eyebrows knitted together in concern. Whatever this thing did to his body…it was _unnatural_. He slowly got up, blanket falling off his body as he did so. He did so with no effort. The thing quickly reacted, pressing its hand against Lance’s chest toward the sofa once again. It began to re-bandage Lance’s wounds, crimson blood now gone as snow white bandages covered the wound which was no longer there. Lance merely raised an eyebrow, legs crossing over each other as his back rested against the dark green cushions.

“Listen, I _appreciate_ you helping me and all, but I should be heading back to where I _belong_.” Lance stated rather dryly, challenging the other to deny his request. He had no clue of how to get back, but he was sure as hell going to try to find a way away from this… _thing_.

And deny it did.

The thing only shook its head in denial, pointing to Lance’s wound and newly made sigils. Lance stared back in defiance.

“Listen here, _buddy_ , I never asked for help. You’re the one who saved me, and…. _oh_.” Lance’s mind gave a sudden click, now understanding why the other was reluctant to let him go.

“You want _payback_ , don’t you?” Lance sighed, tired and dreary from the sudden turn of events.

**“** Yes.”

Lance’s eyes snapped up, mouth agape at hearing the other’s voice for the first time. It sounded a bit distorted, but clearly male nonetheless. Lance only smirked, eyes gleaming in knowing.

“So, you _do_ talk. What a surprise. Anyway, back to the matter at hand, what do you want in return?” Lance questioned, smirk now gone and replaced with a grimace. A few moments passed before the other finally spoke, its voice strong.

“You will stay here until you fully heal.”

Lance was caught completely off guard. He shook his head, eyes wide at the payment demand. “ _What?!_ No, no. We just met, I can’t stay here, I have somewhere to go, I’m a paladin of Voltron, _pilot_ of the _blue lion_ , a kingdom to rule, and I’m not your prisoner or servant! I never _asked_ to be saved!” Lance stated back, anger glazing his eyes to no avail as the other merely locked on in a disturbingly calm manner.

“But I _did_ save you, and that is the matter at hand. You will stay here, unless you’d rather freeze to death outside without the aid of the sigils.” The distorted voice stated back rather calmly, its purple eyes never leaving Lance. “You have no choice, either way; you are weaker than a deer that has been shot.”

_You’ll be safer here for now._

Lance didn’t know whether to bolt out running of the shack in only his boxers or punch the hell out of the other mysterious figure. Although, deep down, he knew he had next to no chance getting back on his own accord. He had no money with him, nor anything of value, he had no clue of where he was, in which he was sure he was miles upon miles away from his kingdom, and the towns which were near him probably didn’t even know what technology even _was_ , and he had no way to contact the others, being that his helmet was damaged beyond repair with communications.

He was completely alone and helpless. Stuck with the thing which had, begrudgingly, saved his life.

“I’m completely _fine_.” Lance responded in vain, hoping the other would understand, somehow, in its darkened mind.

_‘Do I, really want to go back?’_ Lance’s thoughts recited back and forth. He shook his head angrily. Of course he did. It was his duty as defender of the universe.

Silence.

Lance only sighed in defeat, his hand outstretching firmly, knowing he was basically selling his life to something unnatural, but enticing.

“ _Fine_.” Lance stated, and gripping the others’ as they shook hands. Lance smirked, the fingers behind him crossed. He had to make this as believable as possible for now.

He felt as if he partly sold his soul to the devil.

Lance then stood up, stretching his arms as he yawned, hearing a few bones crack. He then proceeded toward the fireplace, kneeling down in front of it, aware of the other watching him, placing fresh wood into the fire.

“What is your name?”

The sudden question caught the prince by surprise, eyebrow slightly rising as he drawled out his words slowly. “My name is Lance; I am prince of the kingdom of Altea and paladin of the blue lion.”

“I can tell you are, _idiota_. I only asked for your _name_. The blue prints under your eyes and your ridiculous pointed ears give it away like a bull’s eye for a hunter in training.”

Lance only huffed back in annoyance and irritation. _‘I’m not an…wait, what?!’_

“You know Spanish?!” Lance asked in surprise, body perking up in expectation.

Nothing.

_‘Yokel…’_ Lance muttered in his mind as he stared at the witch. He decided against saying it out loud, in fear of angering the witch into doing something strange. He wasn’t sure if the witch would even get it, or if it was even _from_ the country side.

He wasn’t any taking chances. If this thing could make his seemingly deep wound heal with a simple magical tattoo, he was sure it could do much worse.

Silence followed, Lance uncaring as he watched the wood snap in half at the pressure of the heat. It was calming. He waited a few moments, before deeming it well enough to ask his own question.

“What is yours?”

A sudden hiss was heard, as if the thing were irritated. “Witch of Marmora”

Lance merely grimaced, un-amused at the other. “That’s not a name, it’s a title.”

“It is a name.” It hissed back angrily as it sat down on the old sofa, flipping through pages of a book.

Lance only grunted. “So, you’re a witch? I figured as much, but I don’t know if it was the creepy cliché witch hut…uhhh…shack which gave it away or your creepy self. Although, you aren’t like other witches, I expected you to be more…I don’t know, weird and unsettling and not so laid back and calm?” Lance stated back slyly, waiting for the other to be provoked.

Nothing.

“Witch of Marmora sure is a mouthful. How about I just call you Wimora for short?”

Still nothing.

“Alright, that’s settled then. Although I do not appreciate that you tattooed my handsome skin without me knowing.” Lance stated dryly. The other merely flipped a page.

“They are not tattoos, they are sigils. Unlike tattoos, they actually contribute to a person’s well being or harm them. What I wrote on you was a simple healing sigil.” Wimora answered back calmly as it continued to read its book.

“So, their like magic? And why does this one glow purple and this one doesn’t?” Lance questioned as he stared at the glowing lavender sigil on his right bicep in awe.

“It only glows when you want it to or are feeling and channeling strong emotions.”

“Oh.” Lance responded, tracing his hand over the strange symbol. His eyes glanced back, settling onto the table behind him, where a strange sword sat. A purple symbol exactly like the one now imprinted onto his skin, sat at the helm of the weapon. “Isn’t this the same one on your sword? And why did you draw it into my skin?”

“Yes.” The other responded curtly as he kept reading. “Don’t touch it. It’s dangerous for naïve hands like your own.”

“I take that insult with light humor, thank you.” Lance responded sarcastically, eyes half lidded as he stared at the other. He ignored the fact that his other question went unanswered.

“Where is my armor?”

The other slammed its book shut, tri-purple eyes unblinking on its mask as it gazed at the blue paladin. “Do you ever shut up?”

“No. Where is my armor?” Lance questioned once again, persistence irritating Wimora as he let out an audible sigh.

“In that box over there.” Wimora responded, pointing toward a box at the back. Lance only nodded; slowly walking toward it as he inspected every nook and cranny in the shack.

His eyes widened in horror as he spotted a jar full of dead mice, eyes glancing around, spotting even more horrible things in the boxes around him. A jar full of fetuses nearly made him gag in disgust, cobalt eyes quickly snapping toward the box which contained his things.

He didn’t want to know, not even _imagine_ , what they were used for.

Strange enough, his armor seemed new, as if he had never worn it. It was newly polished, shining with the light from the fireplace. A white cotton blanket was placed beneath it, as if cushioning it from harm.

“Uhhh, thanks.” Lance choked out wearily, still shaken by what he had seen. He carefully grabbed the brown, beaten box, carrying it over toward the fireplace.

There was no way he was going to sit next.

_To that thing._

He sat down upon the beaten, grey rug, its smooth texture soothing his abused legs as he crossed them. He stared at his armor, enjoying the feeling of warm comfort as he touched his helmet. His royal attire was also present, seeming fully washed and new.

By the time Wimora finished their book, Lance was fast asleep on the floor, firmly clutching his helmet.

But they _knew_.

 

* * *

 

Lance carefully opened his eyes, scanning the room around him.

The fireplace was out.

And so was Wimora.

The thing was sleeping peacefully, its outstretched form taking up the green couch.

Perfect.

Lance silently slipped on his armor, tight black shirt feeling comforting against his body as he placed his chest armor on. The floorboards beneath him creaked as he made his way out; heart beating anxiously a she neared the door, eyes studying the sleeping witch of Marmora.

_‘Pleasedon’twakeup Pleasedon’twakeupPleasedon’twakeup.’_ Lance’s mind pleaded silently as he turned the door knob, a blast of cold wind greeting him in full swing. The cape behind him rippled violently against the cold breeze, the light cyan blue on his armor glowing in the dark as he stepped out onto the porch, silently shutting the door behind him.

He could feel the cold instantly penetrate his armor, the flurries of snow whisking in front of his helmet as he stepped down from the porch onto the deep snow below.

He had to find the remains of the train.

And get away.

_Far away._

He trudged on, the unsettling shack of the witch of Marmora growing farther and farther away as minutes passed on.

He could feel his bones grow tired, the tremendous force of energy taken slowly depriving him more and more as continued his endless trek into nowhere.

Perhaps the dingy village a few miles away was a bit acquainted with technology and directions.

Time was lost as the blue paladin left steps in the snow behind, the snowstorm surrounding him leaving his teeth chattering. He felt cold, miserable.

But he couldn’t go back.

He couldn’t stay.

He had to go back to keep searching. He didn’t want to stay here and waste his life away to a force of possible evil. He didn’t want to perish not knowing.

Not finding.

Lance jumped when he heard a sudden howl, his heart rate increasing when another sounded right by him, as if answering. His side glowed as his bayard instantly materialized in his hand, cobalt eyes flicking back and forth as they attempted to spot the sudden danger. His eyes narrowed when he heard a sudden growl at his right, body quickly turning toward the danger.

Yellow eyes stared back, a wolf slowly coming out of the shadows and into the moonlight, silver pelt glowing white as it neared the prince angrily.

“Are you sentient?!” Lance yelled out anxiously, body now stiff in waiting.

The wolf only snarled back and jolted forward, claws sliding out as it ran toward Lance in a full fledge sprint, flames burning behind it.

“Not sentient, not sentient!” Lance yelled out as he dodged the attack, outstretched claws narrowly missing his thigh as the wolf made impact with the snow in front of it, body instantly getting up as it once again began to target the blue paladin. His bayard glowed as it took form, a gun replacing it as Lance raised up to his chest. His left eye closed, right eye narrowing as it aimed for the wolf’s chest, breaths becoming slow as he gained focus.

Lance gave a sudden yell when his body suddenly convulsed, bayard disappearing as he clutched at his side, teeth grit in agony as he felt a warm liquid form down his side.

Right where he was once injured.

‘Wha-what…‘ Lance’s thoughts were incoherent as his eyes became bleary, focus inconsistent as he attempted to track the wolf and its movements.

It was running toward him at full speed.

Lance clumsily stepped to the side, foot swiftly kicking at the wolf’s head as it passed by him once again. The beast gave a yelp of pain, its body slamming into a tree nearby. Lance began to run, steps clumsy and slow as the pain made him weak. His breaths were quick, eyes shutting tight time to time as the pain began to feel unbearable. He could hear the wolf’s steps behind him, heart hammering against his chest as he attempted to run faster, groans and grunts leaving his mouth as he clutched his side. Sweat formed on his forehead as he ran.

‘What the- _the sigils_ - _agh!_ ’ Lance felt himself stumble during his short realization, body quickly regaining its composure due to instinct as it once again began to flee from danger. Lance could feel the wolf’s jaws snap at his legs, its warm breath becoming evident as its snapping jaws attempted to close on flesh.

Lance held his breath when he felt his feet suddenly hit nothing, only to then realize in horror that he had run over a ledge. His voice yelled out in pain as his body made impact against the ledge’s side, body rolling down the partly snow covered rock at full speed. His arms and legs vainly attempted to stop the fall, only to then be hit against the firm rock surface as the blue paladin clumsily rolled down.

He was greatly thankful for his helmet.

Lance gave a loud grunt as his body gave one last hard impact with the ground, only to then lie still in pain as he became still, flecks of snow slowly falling down on him as he groaned in pain. His eyes fluttered open wearily, quickly spotting the wolf which had caused his unwanted predicament.

It was walking back and forth angrily, snarls echoing as it stared down at its lost prey source.

Lance only smirked weakly, eyes glowing with smug pride as he stared into the eyes of the wolf above. “Coward.”

His eyes scanned the scene around him, cobalt eyes widening in shock as he spotted a silver train car in front of him. It was mangled, the windows broken and full of shards of what once was complete.

“What a convenient coincidence.” Lance muttered. “I should have just fallen over the ledge the first time.”

Lance shakily got up, legs straining against his weight as he made his way toward the abused cars, body now feeling heavy. His eyes scanned through every car, searching for any trace of his friend or his precious bag. His hand leaned against the cars as he passed them, teeth grit in agony as he suppressed yelling out in pain. His breaths were shaky by the time he reached the last car, its multi-colored seats familiar as he peered in. He gave a fond smile when he spotted something familiar.

_His bag._

Lance punched at the remaining shards of glass in the windows, deeming the door shut closed, slowly making his way inside. The paladin car was slightly damaged, next to nothing compared to the others. He grunted as he his body fell against the red booth, eyes quickly locating the bag. It was slightly damaged, tears here and there, but for the most part it seemed fine. His hand quickly shot out for it, his mouth forming a grin as he pulled it close to him.

He grunted once again as he made his way out, body falling into the snow below as his body slipped out of the train car. He slowly got up; huffing in a tired state as his body felt like it weighed two tons. He shakily placed the backpack on, its plump form going on top of his cobalt cape as he began to trudge through the snow once again.

The pain was unbearable.

Lance could barely walk two steps before he began to pant in pain, eyes shutting closed, hand gripping his side in an attempt to calm its pain. He felt immensely tired and in sheer agony.

His eyes slowly opened as he heard a sudden growl, sheer panic overcoming his mind as he stared into the amber eyes of the wolf from before.

“Heh, hi there, nice to see you again. I’m sorry for calling you a coward, force of habit.” Lance attempted, hoping that somehow the animal would understand. “I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for ‘the hunter becomes the hunted’ although it may be one of my favorite lines of all time.”

It snarled in response, uncaring of Lance’s sarcasm, fur standing up as it advanced forward slowly, examining its prey closely for any sudden movement.

_‘I’m dead.’_ Lance thought, pupils narrowing as the wolf started to shake its haunches in preparation for attack. Lance lifted his arms in a pathetic attempt to protect himself, eyes screwing shut as he awaited the pain.

And it came.

Lance screamed out in pain and fear as he felt the wolf’s jaws enclose around his left forearm, body falling back as it was unable to take so much pain at once. His legs rose and fell as they attempted to kick the enemy, the wolf snarling in response as it held its grip, tightening it at every futile kick Lance gave.

It broke through the armor.

Blood quickly began to flow from the wound, staining the snow below, bayard materializing in Lance’s hand as he blindly shot at the wolf in an effort to save himself. The wolf growled and jumped back as the shot hit its shoulder, the blue paladin moving back slowly in an effort to save himself. His chest heaved with effort, sweat forming at his brow and beginning to form all over his body as he panted in fear and immense pain. His breaths felt heavy, feeling as if his lungs were being crushed.

The cold, frigid winter air was not helping.

It once again lunged, a sharp noise of jaws against metal sounding as the wolf snapped at Lance’s gun, shielding the prince from the deadly canines. Lance could feel warm, sticky drool drip down his jaw, arms growing weak as they held up the gun.

His arms fell, too weak to sustain their defense, and the wolf once again lunged for his injured forearm.

Lance screamed in agony, hot tears dripping down his face as he felt his bone snap, the sickening noise echoing throughout the ravine. Lance shook his head violently, eyes tightly closed, legs kicking in an attempt to ease the pain, throat becoming raw as he screamed at the agony which was enveloping his arm as the wolf bit deeper and deeper, teeth almost reaching the marrow in his bones, the re-opened wound at his side pulsating along with his broken forearm.

The wolf then gave a shrill yelp, ears folding back as its head whipped behind it, teeth bared in anger at the one who disturbed its easy meal. His chest gave a sudden heave as he felt the beast’s weight suddenly disappear, eyes opening in panic at the sudden turn of events. He coughed, spitting up a small amount of blood. His eyes instantly looked up, a dark figure was now positioned in front of him, its long, black robe shielding his view as it stayed put rigidly.

The wolf in front of it shook its head, a long, deep slash through its silver fur cutting at its right shoulder. Blood dripped down the gash, drops of crimson tainting the snow beneath. Both figures began to circle each other menacingly, challenging each other, the wolf lashing its tail impatiently as the dark robed figure gripped the helm of its sword, lavender symbol glowing brightly as it connected with the wielder’s emotions.

‘Is…is that…’ Lance’s mind voiced tiredly, the blue paladin weakly attempting to sit up as the witch circled the beast, waiting.

It moved like a beast.

The wolf, deeming it well enough, snarled and sprinted at the intruder, who was now blocking Lance once again, eyes blazing in fury as its paws left a fiery path in its wake, snow melting behind it as it approached.

The witch waited.

Lance only watched in surprise and quiet horror as the witch threw something at the beast, the animal yelping as painful blisters appeared near its eyes.

And then, blood.

Blood spurted in all directions, a drop managing to make it towards Lance’s cheek as he stared on in shock. The blade was impaled into the beast’s chest, symbol now glowing slightly less as the sense of adrenaline passed. The witch merely placed its foot onto its side, swiftly removing its weapon from the flesh it had just impacted on.

Wimora then slowly turned, wolf forgotten as its purple eyes stared down at the injured male.

Lance swore he could see the waking fires of hell inside the purple orbs.

_“Idiota.”_ It hissed angrily, blade disappearing into its cloak. Lance only stared back in defiance, hands shaking.

“I’m…not an…idiot.” He responded back, the pain affecting his vocal cords as he attempted to speak, voice breathless. “You lied…of…the sigils…”

The witch merely stared back, unmoving, as if studying Lance’s heavily bleeding forearm in cruel satisfaction. “I did not. I do not lie. Unlike you.”

Lance only lowered his eyes, anger bubbling in his chest for being found once again. In a much more pathetic state nonetheless.

“I control the sigils I make, and if I wish, I may take them away just as I had given them.”

Lance stayed quiet, teeth grit in both pain and anger as he stared at the other. He disliked depending on others. He hated not knowing where he was. He hated feeling useless. He hated his current situation.

_He hated the witch of Marmora._

It knew he was going to try to escape.

It knew he was in danger.

It was watching him.

And it deactivated its damn sigils right as he faced death.

It was punishment for disobeying it.

“You broke the deal. You have no pay which is enough to recompense what you did.” It spoke in a chillingly calm tone, its slightly distorted voice ringing in Lance’s ears as he listened. “Now you only are left with two choices.”

“W-which are?” Lance questioned, voice weak and stuttering as he shook.

“I let you go or I heal your deadly wounds.”

Lance then suddenly lashed out in anger; breathe hitching as he fell face first into the snow in front of him. He gave a shriek as he felt his injured side and forearm collide with the ground, teeth grit as his eyes stared back up at the witch of Marmora.

It stayed.

“ _Mierda_!” He screamed back, slowly lifting himself up with his good arm. “You sick _bastard_! Those are not fair choices and you _know_ it!”

The witch only stared on calmly, its figure standing out in the moonlight.

“I’m not a sacrifice that has been given! I’m not something you have found and can just keep like a pet!”

The thing relished in Lance’s suffering, as if enjoying its sick twist of play.

Lance knew he was damned to be with this thing. He knew, deep down, he had no actual choice. If he chose to be let go, he would simply bleed to death.

It was all just a dark ploy.

A game.

Lance punched the ground in frustration, form shaking as the sudden realization of him staying with this thing came to his mind.

Purple eyes stared.

Lance grit his teeth, nodding his head at the witch.

It knew his choice.

It took off his chest and arms armor.

Lance felt its palm, warm despite the frigid cold which swirled around them, land on his left arm, a sharp sting engulfing it as the sigil was once again re-activated and strengthened.

Lance writhed on the ground as he felt the wound on his side close slowly, flesh once again covering the wound as it closed.

But his left forearm was different. The pain was depleted, but still there.

The bone was still broken.

The wound was deep and had to be treated properly.

He heard something rip, realizing the witch was ripping part of its cloak to then softly bandage his bleeding forearm. Lance shut his eyes tightly as the witch knotted the tie, the pressure making him groan in displeasure.

The witch took off his backpack.

He was then slowly dragged somewhere, back hitting against something leathery as the thing placed him down. He snapped, asking for his bag, sighing in relief as it landed beside him in a soft thump.

He then yelped in partial surprise as he felt something heavy and warm fall on top of him, eyes widening as he stared into silver fur.

“It will keep you warm.” The witch spoke curtly, before grabbing onto the sled’s lead as it began to walk through the snow, effortlessly making its way back toward its wretched shack. Lance stared back at the wolf’s face, disgusted and horrified, as he saw the blisters up close. They were large and inflamed, swollen white/red bubbles completely covering the beast’s source of eyesight.

Gruesome.

Lance only stared at the night sky above, stars glowing in the darkness, right arm clutching the bag beside him. The storm was now cleared for the most part, small flecks of snow slowly falling down onto the pelt above him.

The possibility of going home was nothing.

For the witch had other plans in mind.

And he had fallen right into its awaiting dark hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Tack here and we hope you enjoyed chapter 2! It's so long, so many words omfg. But, we enjoy it because you guys like it and wait for more! Inspiration!
> 
> Also, Keith is a jerk.
> 
> Lance is like Shiro now, get it? 'Cause he's always almost dying?
> 
> I have no life. My life is Klance now. I'm tired af.
> 
> Also, sorry if there are any mistakes. It's 2:00 a.m. I re-read this like 10 times but...oh well.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, if you were confused:
> 
> Witch's shack is Keith's shack/home
> 
> Yokel - A Yokel is a country bumpkin, a gullible person from a rural area or small town who is unfamiliar with big city ways
> 
> Idiota - Spanish for idiot
> 
> Mierda - Spanish for bullshit/shit
> 
> Sigil - an inscribed or painted symbol considered to have magical power / a seal.
> 
> -Tack


	3. The payment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The voice…it wasn’t distorted. It was familiar and warm.
> 
> “Keith…” Lance breathed, voice unmistakable as he tightened his grip on the other. He felt tired. So tired. His form shook as he laid his head on the other’s chest, hands gripping their cloak as he sighed in content.
> 
> “Just hold on.”
> 
> He was okay.
> 
> “Lance, are you fine?”
> 
> He was going to be okay.
> 
> His eyes were too tired to see. He knew it was probably just his imagination doing this, making him hear the red paladin’s voice.
> 
> But.
> 
> It felt so real and comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! video editing and writing at the same time is hard, man.

**“To love somebody isn’t just a strong feeling. It’s a decision, a judgment and a promise.”**

— 

| 

[Anonymous](http://wnq-anonymous.tumblr.com/)  
  
---|---  
  
 

  **Witch of Marmora:** _ **Chapter 3**_

                                                               _‘The payment’_

* * *

 

“How did you find me?” Lance’s loud voice broke the silence of the night, sled making a soft noise as it was dragged through the snow.

The witch merely shrugged its shoulders.

“The glowing mark on your right bicep, it is connected with my weapon.”

_And myself._

“I am able to feel your emotions. Not only that, but I knew you would try to make a pathetic escape.”

The witch gave a chilling chuckle, shoulders shaking and making the dark robe it was wearing shake along, the loose ends rippling in response. “The _grand_ escape, how amusingly _pathetic_.”

Lance scoffed at the remark. “Oh _yeah_? I’d like to see you attempt to run away from a ravenous wolf with a painful wound at your side.”

The witch remained silent.

Small talk over.

“Hey, um, can you take off my helmet? It’s kinda getting hot in here and I can barely move…”

The sleigh gave an abrupt stop, Lance cringing as the wolf’s snout made contact with his face for a second before bouncing back up. He heard steps crunching in the snow, lavender eyes suddenly coming into view as the witch stood beside him. His breath hitched when he felt two hands on his helmet, smoothly removing it from his humid head as he breathed in fresh, cold air.

“Thanks.” Lance responded curtly.

The thing didn’t let go of the helmet as it took the lead once again, one hand cradling the helmet as it proceeded once again. Lance only rolled his eyes in response to the action.

Lance’s body ached, the pressure of the dead beast making his muscles feel stiff. His legs moved vainly, dark brown hair matted with sweat as he attempted to move his good arm to swipe the messy hair out of his eyes. He hated having messy hair.

Although it was very warm.

He lamely lolled his head to the side, dark blue eyes staring at the passing trees beside him. He could smell their scent from here, sharp, but cool and enticing.

Pine trees.

The metallic taste of blood was still evident in his mouth, the sharp taste enveloping his tongue. His tongue licked at his lips, finding the source of the foul, bitter taste. His hand swiped at his torn lip, a red splotch now on the back of his hand.

What time even was it? It was still night, so perhaps almost dawn? Lance didn’t care much at this moment.

It was no surprise when he spotted the witch’s hideous shack in mere minutes when it took himself approximately half an hour to get where he was. One thing was for sure. He wanted this wolf hide off of him.

The witch did not bother to stop the sled outside of its small, rickety porch. It simply pulled the lead inside, door opening to welcome Lance once again into its humble embrace. It was dark inside, the fire still out due to their absence. Lance stared at the ceiling in boredom, eyes half lidded as the witch finally took off the wretched, dead beast off his sweating chest. Lance sighed in relief, hands going toward the collar of his black, tight under suit and opening it to let fresh air in. He heard a loud thump resound throughout the shack, presumably the dead wolf.

He slowly got up, injured forearm limply at his side as he adjusted himself with his right arm. His form leaned forward, breaths silent as he pushed the matted hair on his forehead back, smoothing down the rest of his hair in the process. Lance glanced back, staring as the witch of Marmora stood over the wolf, its incredibly still form making Lance uneasy. The purple eyes gleamed, their intense glow highlighting the inside of its dark hood.

Lance tilted his head in curiosity, body slowly turning towards the rigid witch. What was so interesting about the dead corpse?  His body leaned forward, the sled protesting as the wood beneath creaked in response to the mass.

“Light the fire.”

Lance only scowled. “Sure, send the injured prisoner to do your dirty work. Classic.”

“You’re not my prisoner.”

“Sure, and you’re not a witch.” Lance responded as he nimbly made his way towards the fire place, slowly settling onto his knees as he began to place fresh wood onto the fireplace. He sat there, for a while, staring at the cold wood in thought. He was stuck with the witch of Marmora.

Witch of Marmora.

If this thing had such a…weird title then it must certainly have quite some fame, right? Because if not, it would just have a name like Steve or something…what if it set people on fire for money? Oh God, he didn’t want to see that…

“Fire. Now.” It repeated, lavender eyes now settled onto Lance as he still stared into the fireplace.

“Well, how am I supposed to light it? _With my eyes_?”

The witch gave an audible sigh. It finally moved, swiftly making its way towards Lance in earnest, matches in hand. It lowered itself next to Lance, making the other nervous. He could smell its strange scent of heather and fire as it came close, shoving the match box onto Lance’s chest, the mask’s lavender eyes glancing back at the wolf.

“Do you know how to use this?”

Lance chuckled in irritation. “Yes, I do, thanks for your concern. But I’m afraid I am too incapable of it at the moment.”

The witch snorted.

It took back the match box, opening it and taking out an unused match stick. It swiftly lighted it in one go, throwing it onto the dry firewood, lighting it instantly. Lance shrugged. The witch then got up, heading toward the back of its shack. Lance once again lay down, feeling tired due to the recent events of his life. He felt fatigue settle onto his muscles, groaning in discomfort when he moves his broken forearm.

The witch soon reappeared, a bottle of…something in its hand and a few bandages as well.  Lance gave an inward flinch as he spotted a pen among the material. Lance instantly attempted to get up, not wanting it to touch him in fear of it doing something weird. The witch ignored him, kneeling down at his level and gently taking his injured forearm.

Lance stayed still as he studied the other. Its hands emerged from its cloak-which Lance questioned why the _hell_ it didn’t just wear a robe instead-its arms and hands seemed to be covered by some kind of suit, since the middle of the cloak was cut open in the middle, Lance could see two purple lines glow across its chest as it tended to his wound. Lance did a double take. It was glowing underneath its cloak. It gently unwrapped the tied piece of cloth around the wound in his forearm, blood instantly flowing down his arm as the pressure disappeared.

“Whaaa…” Lance muttered incoherently, the witch ignoring him as it continued, dipping a cloth in its bottle of what Lance assumed as alcohol, only to then scream in protest as a surging pain shot up his arm.

Hell no, that was not just healing alcohol!

“ _Agh!_   _Que es eso?!_ Wimora, what, _ugh_.” Lance’s head fell back in exhaustion, feeling the blood pump up his arm as he groaned in both pain and shock.

“It’ll heal your wound faster.”

“But, why does it have to be so painful?!” Lance protested back weakly, head still dizzy. He could faintly feel the witch rubbing his forearm, silently enjoying the soothing rubs despite the throbbing pain.

“It’s still bleeding.”

“Really?” Lance spoke, clearly out of reality as he stared back blankly. The witch gave a snort.  Lance quirked an eyebrow when it then placed both of its hands on his forearm, form still as it bent its head down slightly.

“Uhhh, what-“

_“Rivers Shall Flow. Be pure and crystalline But red rivers must not, they must be trapped inside my being.”_

“Wimora, what are you-“

“Shut it.” It hissed out bitterly, mask turning towards him as its three glowing eye-holes glowed menacingly.

Lance bit his tongue.

_“This river so red must Be Stopped with a Golden Net Stop the now stop this bleed._

_When you stop there will be no blood.”_

Lance bit back a scream when he watched the blood which was previously slowly making its way down his arm go back, retreating back into his arm. His forearm shook, eyes wide as he stared back at the other.

He failed to notice the purple symbol become blue as the chant was said, the purple now gone as a soft; cyan blue took its place.

“I-“

“Wait.”

Lance bit his breath when he felt ink be placed on his arm once again. Swift strokes were once again made on his skin, this time on his left bicep. He convulsed when it was completed, throat dry as he could feel his bones’ cells recreate themselves at a rapid pace. What was supposed to be accomplished in weeks was being done in mere seconds. He could feel beads of sweat roll down his forehead as he clenched his fists, shoulder blades snapping back and forth in pain. He screamed in agony at it.

The symbol on his bicep matching the witch’s sword glowed red for a few moments before once again fading into cyan.

He could faintly hear a voice, telling him it was alright. It was all blurry, he couldn’t feel anything.

His eyes could faintly make out grey eyes staring back as he looked up, eyelids fluttering as his eyes strained to see.

“It’s okay, Lance, it’s okay. I promise it’ll be, okay? It’ll be fine soon.”

The voice…it wasn’t distorted. It was familiar and warm.

“Keith…” Lance breathed, voice unmistakable as he tightened his grip on the other. He felt tired. So tired. His form shook as he laid his head on the other’s chest, hands gripping their cloak as he sighed in content.

“Just hold on.”

He was okay.

“Lance, are you fine?”

He was going to be okay.

His eyes were too tired to see. He knew it was probably just his imagination doing this, making him hear the red paladin’s voice.

But.

It felt so real and comforting.

His eyes closed as he began to drift off to sleep, head and body becoming limp while his mind went numb.

The witch stared at the other, its hands caressing the other’s injured arm tenderly. The wound and bones were now fully healed, only a few more days and he could remove the sigil. The witch’s grey eyes stared at the other, mouth forming into a fond smile while it stared at Lance.

“You’ll be okay, I promise.”

It softly caressed the others cheek, other hand holding Lance by the waist to adjust the other onto his lap as the blue paladin slept.

“Ironic, huh? You’re probably wondering who I am, aren’t you? Why I haven’t thrown you out yet, why I won’t let you leave?”

Keith then reactivated his mask, once again hiding the world from his identity.

“You’ll know soon enough, you’re too persistent for your own good. You know me too well.”

* * *

 

Lance woke up with a start, eyes dimming down due to the darkness. It was becoming dawn; little rays of sunshine were beginning to invade the home. His head moved toward the window, eyes narrowing as the light began to land on his face. His turned back around, nuzzling into the warmth beside him.

Warmth….beside him…

Lance instantly snapped back, eyes wide as he back away, falling off the sleigh in silent shock.  The witch stirred, hand rising up toward its mask as if attempting to stifle a yawn. Lance grimaced.

“Don’t do that again. I can sleep by myself, thank you very much.”

The witch ignored him as it got up, cloak rippling as it made its way toward the dead wolf once again. Lance tilted his head.

It was still obsessed with the beast?

He could feel his stomach rumble, its noise causing the witch to set its attention at him instead. Lance gave a sheepish grin in turn.

“Heh, I guess I’m hungry, which makes sense because I’ve almost died, like, twice.”

The witch continued to stare.

“Do you have anything around here that’s edible?”

“You assume everything is free, don’t you?” The witch drawled out. Lance scoffed at the other.

“What?! Listen here, buddy, you know I have no payment, or anything of value-“

“That is _not_ true.” The witch came closer. “You have your kingdom, your friends, in which their souls you can offer for your own life, your title as prince of Altea, a vile of your blood, a limb of your own, your own soul, the list goes on.”

Lance backed away as the witch kneeled down toward his eye level.

“Not everything of value is materialistic, foolish prince.”

Lance glared back at the other angrily.

“Damn you.” Lance spat out. “You know as well as I do that I’m not doing any of those things for your own dark, selfish gains. I would never betray my friends for my own life, I won’t let…I won’t let another one of them fade.”

“Ah, so you lost someone dear to you?” The witch inquired, seeming intrigued. Lance lowered his eyebrows in a daring manner.

“That’s none of your business.”

“That may be so, but it may get you out of your own predicament. Unless you’d rather starve to death.”

Lance bit back a sour retort. He felt as if a sword was being impaled into his stomach due to the intense hunger he was feeling.

“Fine.” Lance bit out angrily. “His name is Keith. That’s it.”

The witch then got up, seeming pleased with the reveal of information, and proceeded toward a box in the back. Lance moved his head forward, trying to make sure it wasn’t some kind of vile thing it was serving him.

To his surprise, it was a rabbit. Yeah, it was blue with pink dots on its back, but yeah, it was a rabbit.

He was grateful it was already dead, he couldn’t bear to see it get skinned alive. The witch made its way back toward Lance and plopped the dead rabbit onto his lap, blue eyes staring back at the corpse. It then shoved a knife into his hand, Lance instantly grasping it not wanting it to fall into his leg by accident.

“Skin it, and then cook it in that pot over there.”

Lance rolled his eyes and nodded. Wanting the witch gone.

It left back toward the wolf, tweezers in hand as it plucked bits of fur from the hide. Lance quickly set to work, knife digging into the fur, attempting to skin the animal.

_‘I am so sorry.’_ Lance repeated in his mind as he watched blood seep into view. His leg brought a spare bucket near him, letting the blood flow into it so it would not taint the floor. He jumped when he felt a hand grip his shoulder, the rabbit being yanked away.

“ _Idiota_ , that’s not the proper way to skin a rabbit.”

Lance huffed, arms crossing against his chest angrily. “Oh yeah? Then teach me.”

And the witch did. Its distorted voice sank into Lance’s ears as it spoke, explaining how and why it was doing what it was. Lance listened closely, knowing that this was not going to be the last time he was going to skin an animal.

The wolf was probably next in line.

“Don’t sink the knife too deep; it might ruin the value of the meat, both for consumption and trade.” The witch explained, hand guiding Lance’s own as the blue paladin continued his job. The witch then left, deeming Lance well enough to do it on his own.

“The wolf is next.”

Lance called it.

* * *

 

“So, what am I supposed to do here all day now that I’m stuck here?” Lance questioned, back leaning against the couch as he sat on the floor still. The wolf was now skinned, its silver pelt hanging outside and the meat stored into the snow to preserve it.

In response, a dead fox was place onto his lap; the witch now crouched over the pot which was boiling on top of the fire.

Lance picked up the fox by its tail, eyebrow raised. “So this is what my life is reduced to? Skinning animals and cooking your meals?”

“You are not cooking any meal.” The witch retorted.

“Soon enough, I’ll be.”

“Would you rather I make you gather the cold blood of a dead child?” The witch asked in return, purple eyes now turned to stare at the other. Lance gulped, shaking his head vigorously.

“No, no, it’s fine, I love skinning animals!”

The witch snorted in return, head once again turning towards the pot. Lance placed the yellow and white fox beside him, steadily getting up as he made his way toward the sleigh. His hands reached for his bag, now heading towards the back of the shack.

“Hey, I’m going to change, alright? So…you know…”

 The witch ignored him.

He zipped open the bag, instantly being greeted with the red jacket of Keith. He gently pushed it aside, along with the other belongings, and reached down into the bottom of the bag.

_“Oh Lance, you don’t need all those clothes, we won’t be gone long_.” Lance mimicked Hunk as he touched the fabric.

He smirked when he found his signature clothes, hastily pulling them out along with his set of boxers. He turned his head over his shoulder, assuring himself that the witch was occupied, before pulling of his chest armor, along with his other pieces of armor. He grimaced at the damaged forearm armor, a gaping hole providing no defense. He later took off the black under suit; eyes glancing back to maintain his privacy.

The witch was now stirring the contents of the pot steadily, the purple stew with chunks of pink meat swirling around as steam evaporated into the air.

Lance quickly took off his old boxers, legs snaking into the new pair hurriedly as he grabbed for his shirt.

The witch heard the noisy rustling of Lance’s attempts to be quick and subtle, a hidden smirk being formed as it listened to Lance’s antics.

The witch then got up, heading toward the back to gather two wooden bowls for their meal. Lance made some sort of squawking noise as he jumped into his blue jeans, shoving them up while the witch came closer. He then leaned back against one of the shelf, attempting to hide his moment of surprise.

“Why, hello there.” He stated, inspecting his nails which were uneven.

Damn it.

The witch ignored him as it walked past him, reaching into a shelf as it gathered what it needed.

Lance walked back toward the couch, plopping himself onto it as he breathed in deeply. He grabbed the fox, knife in hand, and began his chore while the witch prepared their meal.

“You will gather the traps outside when you are done.”

Lance then stopped what he was doing.

“What traps?”

“The _traps_ that _capture_ the _animals_.” The witch drawled out calmly.

“You’re expecting me to go out there again after almost dying?”

“I won’t deactivate your sigil again.”

Lance chuckled in response, empty of any humor. “Oh yes, you wouldn’t want your prisoner to die and not be able to do your bidding, would you?”

The witch didn’t answer as it poured the purple soup into a bowl, plopping a spoon onto it as it made its way toward Lance, placing the bowl onto the old table in front of him.

“Go check them after your meal; you shouldn’t wait until noon unless you want to be targeted again.”

Lance shrugged, handing the skinned animal to the witch and placing the pelt onto the tattered arm of the couch.

“If I’m not suffering from pain, I would most likely be able to defend myself.”

Lance then lifted the spoon towards his lips, pausing in uncertainty as he stared at the purple liquid.

“It’s not poisoned, drink it.”

Lance, assuring himself with the other’s words, set the spoon into his mouth, savoring the taste it left.

It was strangely savory, but left a bitter taste at the end.

“So are you a human underneath that cloak of yours, or what?”

The witch remained silent in turn. Lance rolled his eyes.

“Would another secret about me suffice your overly due payment?”

The witch gave a subtle nod, sitting down onto the floor near Lance’s feet.

Well, if he was going to be stuck with the witch for the rest of his days…or rather for now…he might as well tell it his memories.

“Okay, well, I’m from the kingdom of Altea, well was, since I’m here now, I guess. But, I’m human too, so half and half, huh? I was from earth, along with a few others, but the lions of Voltron chose us to be their pilots. Crazy huh, that out of all the people in the universe, we were chosen? Anyway, we’re in a pact with the Galran kindom, since they…did something, we used to be enemies, well we still are but we’re in a pact so...yeah.”

The witch tilted its head, awaiting more. When Lance remained silent, the witch spoke.

“Who did they take?”

Lance gulped, eyes now cast down as he stared at the floor.

“They took away the red paladin…remember the Keith guy I mentioned? Yeah, they took him away…that idiot…” Lance bit out at the end, eyes hardening for a moment before softening once again.

“He was always trying to protect us…to find a way out…estupido Niño…”

Silence overtook the shack, the fire cracking behind them as Lance remained silent, eyebrows knitted as he thought.

“I’m half galra, half human.”

Lance’s head shot up in shock, eyes widening as he stared at the other.

“You’re…you’re galra?!”

The witch rolled its shoulders.

“You’re _galra_.” Lance repeated, eyes blinking rapidly.

He was with the enemy.

“And human. Now, go do what I told you.”

Lance stayed where he was, dumbfounded still, before getting up slowly and staring at the other who was still sitting down.

“…Okay, but…if I die it’s on you.” Lance muttered, unable to find a response to the information he was just told. He gathered his bayard, tugging on the sweater he had on.

“You don’t have any spare cloaks you can borrow me, do you? I don’t want to freeze to death.”

The witch then went back to one of its boxes, gathering another black cloak, much like its own only it did not have the bird skull in the middle, and throwing it at Lance. Lance put it on quickly and opened the door, smiling slightly when he found it to be blizzard free. It must have died down last night.

“Where do I find the traps?”

“A few are scattered along the woods, the fish trap is near a lake not far from here, be careful where you tread, not all ice is thick.”

He shut the door behind him, pulling the dark hood upon his head as he made his way out. His sneakers were pathetic against the snow, not a minute had passed before they were soaking wet.

It’s not like he had another pair of shoes, he wouldn’t risk ruining his paladin armor again until he deemed it safe enough. He didn't need it to get nay more busted. He wasn’t going on a mission anyway, just a simple walk through the woods.

His mouth was firm as he trudged on, eyes glancing around attempting to find a net or cage among the snow. The fact that he now knew what the witch was made him uneasy. He was staying with the enemy. Yeah he was human but.

He was also galra.

He didn’t trust them, not a single one. They had only ruined their lives in the past, caused misery and destruction.

They had taken him away.

Lance worried his lip as he trudged on; the snow had to be at least two to three feet deep.

His eyes narrowed when he spotted a trap, an unmoving figure lay in the net. Lance grimaced as he got closer, hands now enclosed on the net.

It must have died from the blizzard.

He hung it over his shoulder, once again setting the trap as he left to find more.

Half an hour passed before he gathered all the prey, most of them rabbits with an occasional fox.

His feet soon came upon the lake, the white/blue colored ice seeming innocent as it reflect the sun’s light. He could see a part of the river which was unfrozen, feet cautious as he neared.

Of course it was farther down the ice.

He placed the animals he had gathered on the firm ground, not wanting them to be lost in case something happened.

He bit his lip as he treaded carefully, hands raised up to maintain balance as he neared.

He kneeled down, fingers instantly retracting when he felt the bitter cold water. His hands made quick work with the trap, gripping it and heaving it out as two measly fish jumped around inside.

Activating his bayard, he made quick work of ending their lives, the blue bodies stopping their struggle as Lance’s shots connected with their heads.

Carefully resetting the trap, Lance once again placed it into the water, getting up and staring back at the shore which was a few feet away.

“Okay Lance, just go slow.”

He slowly made his way across once again, eyes narrowed as he attempted to tread on solid ice.

His heart hammered as he made his way across, a few inches away from the shore.

And that’s when he felt something crack beneath him. He barely had time to throw the fish forward before falling into the frigid water, a scream emitting from his mouth as he got submerged underwater. The frigid water was surrounding him, slowly making his body numb.

If he didn’t get out of here soon, he would die. The cloak was weighing him down, its heavy thick material making him sink slightly faster. He could feel minutes pass by as he struggled to remain conscious, heart hammering in fear.

_‘Oh my God, oh my God, what do I do, I don’t want to die!’_

 His hands frantically attempted to get a grip on the shore, legs kicking in a desperate manner as he finally got a breath of fresh air, head breaking through the surface of the water. He could feel the broken bits of ice bump against his body, ragged breaths becoming evident as he shook in exasperation. He gasped as his hands trembled, fingers gripping the snow while he heaved himself out slowly, knees becoming covered in snow as he crawled onto shore.

He lay down for a moment, feeling extremely cold despite the cloak he had on.

He was soaking wet.

He trembled as he got up, slowly gathering the dead bodies of the animals as he made his way back.

He trembled all the way, whether if it was from fear or cold he couldn’t tell.

He bet it was both.

* * *

 

The door slammed open, Lance’s staggering figure coming inside as he made his way to the couch, throwing the dead animals onto the table, body plopping down onto the tattered couch as he groaned.

He could feel the witch’s stare on him.

“You walked on thin ice and fell into the lake, didn’t you?”

“How did you guess?” Lance’s muffled voice questioned back, the cloak’s hood covering his face. He then lifted his head, blue eyes meeting purple as they stared back.

He hated how he couldn’t tell the witch’s emotions. All he could see was that mask.

“I don’t feel good.” Lance moaned out, body feeling hot as he rested his cheek onto the couch, eyes still staring at the other.

The witch remained still.

“Of course you don’t, you probably got hyperthermia.”

Lance groaned, body slumped over as he remained in misery.

“You should probably take off your soaked clothes. They will do more harm than good to your body.”

Lance slowly got up, eyes droopy as he rose from the couch. He made his way to his bag, zipping it open and gathering a set of familiar clothes and placing them on top of the bag. His hands caressed the locket, thumb feeling the cool metal before placing it back down.

“He would kill me if he found out I was using his clothes.” Lance laughed at himself, eyes forming wrinkles as he grinned.

“But, he’s not here, and these are the only extra clothes I have so…”

The witch only stared at him as he appeared once again on the couch with a tight black shirt, red jacket partly covering his torso as he slumped forward once again on the couch, cheek resting on the tattered green cushions. Black fingerless gloves covered his hands while black jeans covered his legs; red, black and white boots covered his feet. A belt was around his waist with two bags on the side.

A metal locket was around his neck, glimmering with the light of the fire.

“…I’m still kinda surprised we had the same shoe size….” Lance muttered as he lazily opened his eyes, watching the other in confusion.

“What? You wanted me to change clothes, stop staring.”

He probably shouldn’t be talking like this to a possible evil witch but.

Whatever, he was stuck here anyway.

The witch continued to stare, as if caught in a daze, before snapping its head back toward its board.

Lance’s eyes glanced up, scanning the board filled with notes and colored yarn.

“Is….is that a theory about the wolves?”

“Possibly. There is a probability that these wolves are based on the four elements. The silver one was that of fire…could be red too, the black of air, the green of earth, and I suspect the one of water is blue.” The witch muttered, Lance not sure if it was talking to him or to itself.

“So…you’re basically saying…that you _used_ me, to prove your _theory_?!” Lance yelled out, now sitting up as he gripped the couch’s cushions.

“Yes.”

Lance held back the line of Spanish swears he had in store. He only looked away angrily, eyes a blue fire while he knitted his eyebrows together.

“I still have yet to catch sight of the blue one.”

“Uh huh, so you’re going to send me out to find it.”

The witch turned its head back toward the other, tense.

“I never said that. It lurks around the lake near noon and definitely at night, I can just check it out myself.”

“Good, because I’m not risking myself for one of your theories again.” Lance spoke as he flopped himself down on the couch once again, head aching as he felt heat radiate off his body. He heard footsteps come near him, the back of a hand coming in touch with his burning forehead. He groaned, feeling miserable as his body felt weak.

“Tsk, you had to get sick before the day of the black market.”

“…black market?” Lance questioned lazily.

“I can’t miss it, she’s coming this week, too much of a risk. How do I do this again… _ah_! I need a batch of clover.” The witch continued its rant, now moving toward the back. He then heard the front door open, a few minutes passing before it closed again.

“…clover?”

“Stop acting like that. Come here.”

Lance slowly got up, legs shaky as he made his way over. He could hear the squawking of a chicken, head moving toward the noise.

“Where did you get the chicken?”

“Not important, lay on the mat.”

Lance followed the witch’s command; face questioning as he felt sesame seeds be placed around him.

“Uhhh…what?”

“Close your eyes.”

He could feel a clover be placed in between his eyes, silence following as he remained silent.

He slowly felt the heat go away, body temperature once again becoming normal as he heard the chicken’s squawks become miserable. He opened his eyes, body rising up as he stared at the chicken in front of him. The witch was behind it, staring back at Lance.

“What just happened?”

“The chicken has your sickness now.”

Lance stared in awe at the animal, feeling slightly sorry for its miserable state.

Better the chicken then him, though.

At this point Lance was wondering why the witch was even bothering with him, it would've been easier to leave him to die.

“I have a coop in the back, if you’re wondering where I got it.”

Lance bit his cheek, head tilting.

“How do you know to do all this?”

The witch remained silent.

Lance rolled his eyes.

“I like to put on face masks.”

“I was taught, although by force by druids, I learned. Now go eat, although your sickness is elevated it still leaves behind the effect of hunger.”

Lance stared at the chicken still in shock. The feel of his stomach rumbling got him out of his trance, body now in front of the brewing pot.

He didn’t know whether the bitter taste in his mouth was from the stew or the fact that he now knew he was with a half human, half galra witch trained by galra druids.

Probably both.

One thing was for sure.

He was going to a black market tomorrow with the Witch of Marmora.

_How fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I searched up actual witch spells for this chapter omfg.
> 
> Que es eso?! - What is that?!
> 
> estupido Niño - Stupid kid


End file.
